


shooting up junk

by Nonymos



Series: drawn into something [6]
Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Craigslist, I couldn't help myself, Insomnia, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Polyamory, Rescue Missions, Semi-Public Sex, Sort of? I guess?, Tattoos, Vore, baby don't hurt me, based on some comic panels, eddie's life has gotten so dang weird, what is vore?, yes there is a spider-verse cameo, you know the ones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 14:47:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20837249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nonymos/pseuds/Nonymos
Summary: One night in the life of the alien foursome. Violence! Sex! Craigslist! Nobody's getting any sleep.





	shooting up junk

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey! I got tired of sitting on this ficlet and released it into the wild. :D It doesn't really count as curtain fic because of all the gore and vore (is it truly vore? is Venom not vore by default??) but it's the last buffer ficlet before the last chaptered fic in this series!  
Please enjoy and leave many comments \o/

_WHY CAN WE NOT NUMB THE PAIN, _Venom protests.

“Because I need to feel it, love. It’s part of the whole process, for me anyway. You know?”

The waiting room is quiet; there’s nobody else sitting on the rattan chairs. Eddie can hear faint buzzing sounds coming from the stalls that open along the hallway. This is the second tattoo he’ll get in San Francisco, and he went back to the Leverage parlor—the woman who had inked the butterfly onto his chest had been professional, talented and precise. He likes tattoos, likes the intimacy of getting one; the quiet irrevocability of the act, the artistic transaction. A person leaving indelible art on another person. And, yes—even the pain.

_BUT THIS WILL NOT BE A GOOD PAIN?_

“Not—not in itself, no. I mean, I don’t think it’ll turn me on or—or anything like that.”

_MAYBE IF WE WERE TIED DOWN, _Venom helpfully suggests. _IF YOU HAD NO CHOICE._

“No, okay, see, we’re not _trying _to make it a good pain,” Eddie says quickly before Venom can develop that scenario. “I’d rather not get hard in front of the tattoo artist.”

_NEEDLES INTO OUR SKIN, _Venom says grudgingly—it keeps circling back to that. _AND WE CANNOT HEAL THE BLEEDING EITHER?_

“There won’t be much of it. And yeah, this one has to heal on its own. It’s part of the deal, the ritual, the—it’s sacred,” Eddie says, remembering this argument works pretty well on Venom. “It’s sacred to me.”

_BECAUSE BODIES ARE SACRED, _Venom muses.

“Yes,” Eddie says, surprised. He hadn’t even made the connection himself. “Yeah. It’s—we’re putting something inside my body. We’re transforming it forever. It’s a big deal. I want to do it right.”

_YOU DID THAT FOR EVERY TATTOO YOU EVER GOT?_

“Yep. See? Took care of ‘em, turned out just fine.”

_FINE. BUT I WILL ACT TO PREVENT INFECTIONS, _Venom says with finality.

“Sure, yeah, definitely. No problem with that part. Thanks, love.” Someone calls Eddie’s name from a stall, and he gets up. “Okay, no hurting people, all right? If it gets too claustrophobic for you, just let me know and we’ll take a breather.”

*

Eddie is almost surprised to realize how bearable it actually is—of course, since he last was under the needle, he got shot, stabbed, beaten up, run over and dissected alive. Not to mention what Venom puts him through for fun and profit. This controlled kind of pain, sitting in a clean studio, almost feels like a different sensation altogether, now. Venom seems inclined to agree.

_WE HAVE HAD MUCH WORSE, _it comments in a blasé kind of way, forgetting that it had been fretting like an anxious Chihuahua just minutes ago.

“Oh, like you wanted it to hurt more,” Eddie says to the ceiling, quiet enough that the artist doesn’t hear him, focused as she is, with music trickling out of her headphones.

_MAYBE I DO. MAYBE I AM FRUSTRATED._

“Well you can take it out on me when we get home, I guess.”

Venom laces a few tendrils around his inner thighs. _DEAL, EDDIE._

Eddie _really _doesn’t want to get hard in front of the tattoo artist. He turns his head and closes his eyes and focuses on the prickling in his right forearm.

The scalpel is done in clean, straight lines, but the roses are intricate enough, cross-hatched and shadowed. By the time it’s done, Eddie’s a bit sweaty and loopy with endorphins, and his arm feels—well, like someone’s poked needles into it. When he reopens his eyes to look at the tattoo, though, he can’t help smiling.

Even though he knows the drill, he listens intently to the artist’s instructions for its maintenance while she wraps it in plastic; he can feel Venom paying attention, too.

_PART OF YOU NOW, _it says when she’s done.

“Part of us,” Eddie answers, without bothering to speak quietly this time.

*

Anne can honestly say she’d never gotten onto Craigslist before.

It is a fascinating place. Somehow it still looks like a website that was made in the 90s—has it not been updated since? And of course all the stories she’s heard are true: half of the posts look like they would end up with her getting murdered in a back alley somewhere. She’s oddly drawn to the whole thing, in the exact way she was once drawn to Eddie.

Frying noises rise up from behind her. She sips some wine from her glass, then sets it down on the coffee table and twists around on the couch to look at Dan. “Do you need help, honey?”

“Oh, no, don’t get up,” Dan says, shirt sleeves rolled up and spatula in hand. “You’ve chopped your share.”

“It smells _amazing.” _She loves to watch him cook. It’s not that she’s a bad cook herself—honestly, as long as you stick to the recipe, nothing’s _that _hard. But she lacks an essential ingredient: patience. Dan has it in droves.

“Why, thank you,” he smiles, then looks at her screen. “Is that Craigslist? What are you looking for?”

“Engagement rings,” Anne deadpans.

“Oh, I thought we’d agreed to skip those,” he says cheerily.

“Which is why I’m looking them up on Craigslist. For _actual _engagement rings, I would’ve gone to Etsy.”

Dan laughs and gets stirring again. The thing is, they’ve got crazy schedules. He’s presenting a paper soon—apparently thanks to his experiments on Eddie—which might lead to a round of conferences all around the country, maybe even abroad. Anne’s bosses are on the brink of getting a class action lawsuit going and it’s highly likely she’ll be taking point on it. There’s no telling what happens next, how far it might go, how long. So they’re getting married _now_, not two months after getting engaged, because it might be their last chance to take two whole weeks off this side of the decade.

Meaning they didn’t have any time to look up engagement rings, much less buy any. Anne actually thinks that’s pretty romantic, like they were swept up in a torrent of passion. Also, telling her mother she’s basically having a shotgun wedding was _very_ satisfying. Anne’s always eager to horrify her mother. She can’t even explain why, exactly. All she knows is it feels like therapy. Or vindication. Or both. Maybe she regrets never rebelling as a teen; maybe that’s what she’s been doing over the past few years, distilling rebellion. Little drops of nonconformism every once in a while, whenever she gets the chance. Dating Eddie. Going pro-bono. Changing her bangs. Befriending an alien.

“So what are you looking for, then?” Dan asks.

“RVs,” she finally admits.

The frying noise dims, then stops as Dan takes the wok off the fire. She hears him put the food into bowls, which he then brings to the coffee table—it’s eggplant and shrimp curry, with fancy brass chopsticks stuck up into the rice. It smells so good her stomach gurgles.

“I’m so glad I’m marrying you,” she comments.

Dan sits down next to her and beams. “I’m so glad you’re marrying me. Why are you buying an RV on Craigslist?”

“I thought it might be cheaper than renting a car for two weeks.” She _used_ to have a car, but then it got totaled and she never got around to buying a new one, since Eddie’s giving her motorcycle rides again.

“It just might,” Dan amiably agrees. “So we’re having a road trip?”

“We have to get to Virginia _somehow_,” she says. “And it won’t be by plane, or Eddie and Venom can’t come. And we need something big enough for four people.”

“Counts as three,” Dan says, but it’s distracted. He falls silent.

Anne glances up at him. “Dan?”

He digs into his rice for a minute, then says, “Honey, you know, we don’t _have _to go to Virginia.”

“You said you’d like your extended family to be there. We can’t ask them all to come to San Francisco on such short notice.”

“What about _your _family? They live here.”

“That’s just my mom, maybe my aunt. I don’t think anyone else will show up—I’ve invited them, of course, but we’re not that close.”

“All the same, it just makes _sense _to have it here. I’ll have plenty of other opportunities to see my family.” He gives a conceding nod. “Well, maybe not very soon. But it’s your wedding, hon, and it’s being rushed enough.”

Before she can answer, their phones buzz at the same time, meaning it’s a group chat notification. They check the conversation immediately in case Eddie got shot again.

There _are _traces of blood in the picture he sent them, but the tattoo is still very clear on his skin, glistening with ointment. It’s neat work. The scalpel goes right down his forearm, just where Dan cut him that first time, with roses and thorns moving around it. Under the image he wrote, _what do you think? :)_

Dan swallows. Anne glances quickly at him. He’s not crying—she’s never seen him cry, actually—but he looks emotional.

“Look at that,” he says. “My tattoo. He actually did it.” He zooms in. “It looks great.”

Anne wraps a hand behind his neck and kisses him. Dan kisses back slowly. She smiles at him when they part, keeping her hand on his cheek, both as a caress and as a hold on his jaw, so their eyes meet.

“We’re going to Virginia, hon,” she says. “It’s _your _wedding, too. And it’s your family.”

Dan smiles at her like he can’t help it and just says, “All right.”

“Now.” She leans against him and picks up her bowl, bringing her laptop close. “Help me out. I’ve never planned a road trip before.”

*

Eddie pushes away his computer. It’s late, and he’s been trying to write for a few hours, but the pain in his forearm keeps distracting him. His phone buzzes; he taps at the screen and sees that Dan just sent back a string of exclamation points, followed by a single yellow heart that makes him smile. Anne is already writing a reaction of her own, three dots bouncing in expectation.

Under his skin, Venom is moving—circling the sore spot, prodding at it. Maybe it feels invasive, these new pockets of ink in its host’s body. Eddie had missed the feeling of a fresh tattoo, the novelty of those first few days where he gets used to this new feature that will stay with him all his life. Right now, it keeps catching his eye; over time, he won’t notice it as often anymore; it will become comfortable, familiar. Just like the alien he can see right now through his skin.

Eddie tries to imagine living without Venom, just to see if he remembers how it feels like, and finds he _can’t _imagine it_. _The entire concept is beyond his grasp. To think that just a year ago he was sick, terrified, thinking he was going mad; and now he can’t even envision a future that doesn’t involve Venom inside him. How could he go on living on his own? This is who he is, now—this is _what _he is. If his mind went quiet all of a sudden, he’s not sure he would stay sane for long.

It doesn’t compare to how he felt when he got engaged to Anne. Of course he thought he was going to stay with her forever, then. But Venom—Venom isn’t just a companion. Venom is what makes him _whole_.

Venom catches his thoughts and perks up. _THINKING ABOUT ME, EDDIE? _

“I’m always thinking about you, love.”

A drooling, befanged mouth opens near his face, a thick twisting tongue coming out of it. “FLIRT.”

Next a ridge of shiny clawed fingers comes out all around Eddie’s neck, making him straighten up his chin on instinct—which means Venom’s tongue, pushing past his lips, has no problem sliding straight down his throat. The claws close around his throat, squeeze. Eddie pushes his hips up and tries not to gag. Venom’s kisses are always a workout.

Tendrils are wrapping around his wrists, his ankles, binding him to his chair, tightening like slick black vines. His tattoo stings and burns as Venom squeezes it, obviously reveling in this new way to make him suffer.

_YOU ARE IN FOR IT NOW, EDDIE, _it rumbles, undoing his pants.

The tongue retracts, leaving Eddie coughing, tearing up; he blinks, stares down at himself. Seeing Venom’s tentacles around his cock is still a trip, even after all these months of fucking. Eddie watches himself getting tugged out of his pants, aware of his own nudity in a way regular sex never made him feel—and his heart rate jumps again when the tendrils sprout teeth. A pink tongue wraps around his cock next, and Venom’s entire head reforms itself around him, grinning.

“WHAT WERE WE SAYING EARLIER ABOUT FRUSTRATION,” it says, and sucks in Eddie’s cock whole, fangs scraping against his pelvis, tongue tightening in slick spirals around him, a stray tendril prodding at his hole—

Which is when someone knocks.

Tendrils unlace from around him; the massive drooling tongue retracts. _NEVER MIND._

“Huh?” Eddie fights against the tentacles—which disappointingly let him go. “Hey, come back—I don’t have to answer the door!”

_YOU DO._

“What?” Eddie mumbles. “What does that mean…” but he does get himself up, doing up his pants, and makes his way to the door.

It opens on a woman with black clothing, red hair and a white smile. “Hey, Eddie.”

Eddie doesn’t move for a moment. Then he closes the door right back in her face.

“Is she going away?” he asks after a few seconds.

_I AM AFRAID NOT._

Eddie reopens the door. In the hallway, Natasha Romanov raises her eyebrows at him.

“Look, if you’re here to kill me, or—take me down or whatever,” Eddie says, rubbing a hand over his face, “could you… I don’t know, come back tomorrow? Because I have a bit of a headache right now, and…”

“I’m not here to take you down.” She pushes her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. “Do you have a minute?”

Eddie kind of really, really wanted to get fucked up by Venom. This is what counts as a pleasant evening for him now. “I… sure,” he says, stepping back. “Do you want… coffee, or tea or something?”

Two minutes later, he brings two mugs of tea to the coffee table. Romanov accepts one with what looks like genuine gratitude and sips it in silence for a little while, sitting alone on his couch. She seems tired and drawn. Eddie’s got a chair across from her; he would rather not get too close.

His phone buzzes, and he sees he’s missed Anne’s previous text, where she said nice things about his tattoo. Now she’s asking, _How do you feel about RVs? _Eddie’s brow pulls into a frown; he pockets his phone and clears his throat. “So, uh, what brings you here?”

“First of all.” She sets her mug down. “Do you still have your friend?”

In answer, Venom trickles out over one of Eddie’s hands and blows Romanov a kiss. Eddie scrunches up his nose and shakes his hand free of black goo. “We have _got _to discuss your style with the ladies.”

_ANNE LIKES MY STYLE, _says Venom, smug.

Romanov’s green eyes are a bit wide, but her mouth is a bit smiling. “Good. It’s you I need.”

Eddie feels Venom sort of brace against him from the inside, and he very much shares the sentiment. “We stay together.”

“No, I know. That’s what I meant by _you_.” She takes a deep breath, then explains.

Eddie stares at her for a long while. Then he says, “…Now?”

She gives him a look. “I’d rather not wait.”

“Right. Right. But—” Eddie hesitates. “I don’t even know if Venom can be on a helicopter. It definitely can’t be on a plane, Anne confirmed it. The noise…”

_I WAS ON A SPACESHIP, _Venom says, which—it has a point.

This time Romanov just looks baffled. “Is that your only objection?”

“Well, you said it’s Alchemax. They were on my list, after the Life Foundation and AIM. If they’re as tough to infiltrate as you say, I definitely want in. Might not get a better chance anytime soon.” Eddie rubs his arm, then winces. “Ow.”

“Are you hurt?”

“Fresh tattoo.” He fidgets some more, then looks at her again. “And if we can pull this off, you’ll owe us one, right?”

*

_not sure i can make lunch tomorrow, _Eddie puts into the group chat.

Anne pauses her horror movie—it’s 2am, but she can’t sleep; one of these nights—and frowns. That lunch’s been planned for a week, and she and Dan agreed it would be a good time to tell Eddie they’re all going to Virginia for the wedding.

It’s been making her nervous, too, because they’ve decided this without consulting him. And on one hand, why would they? It’s their wedding. But on the other hand—

She _knows _Eddie loves them both. God knows they both love him. And he’s encouraged her to go forward with this, and he’s agreed to be Dan’s best man, and he’s demonstrated his support of their relationship in many, many ways. But still, inside her, _something_—maybe those built-in principles, the ones she exorcises by annoying her mother—is saying that Eddie _ought _to resent them, all the more now that the wedding’s actually happening and decisions are being made for him.

She’d been looking forward to talking it out, appeasing those fears. So, this, this not-happening lunch, it’s—not what she needed right now.

_too busy? _she asks.

Eddie sends back a picture of Natasha goddamn Romanov in the process of hotwiring a two-person helicopter.

Anne’s anxieties take a hard turn left. She calls him before she’s even fully registered what she’s seeing. The phone rings one, two, three times before he picks up. “What the _fuck,” _she says in a furious whisper.

_“It’s okay, Annie,” _Eddie answers in a placating tone. _“We’re kind of—freelancing? Just wanted to let you know. Romanov says we’ll be back tomorrow night, tops.” _

“Back from _what?”_ Her mind’s running full-time. They were fools to think the Avengers were going to leave them alone. Steve Rogers told them point blank he’d be back for Eddie. “You just _went with her? _How do you know she’s not taking you to a lab?”

_“Uh, she is, actually. But—that’s besides the point. Seriously, I didn’t mean for you to worry—just wanted to keep you, uh, in the loop and all. if something goes wrong, you know, we’ll just eat her.”_

_“YOU SUCK AT THIS. GIVE ME THE PHONE.” _There’s a slurping noise. _“ANNE, THIS IS NOTHING WE CANNOT HANDLE.”_

“Venom?” She’s never heard him on the phone before; his voice is so deep the tiny speakers saturate.

_“IT IS A VERY SIMPLE MISSION. THERE SHOULD BE NO FIGHTING.”_

“Darling, are you sure?”

_“Oh, so you’re still ‘darling’ even on that kind of phone call,” _says Eddie’s voice.

_“LIKE I SAID. YOU SUCK AT THIS,”_ Venom answers, muffled in a way that suggests he covered the phone to speak.

_“She definitely heard you say that. You don’t know how to whisp—” _This time, when Eddie cuts off, Anne just knows it’s because Venom’s enveloped him whole.

_“ANNE. WE WILL TRY TO BE BACK IN TIME FOR LUNCH.”_

Anne sighs. Eddie’s alien parasite being more considerate than Eddie himself shouldn’t be a surprise by now. “Lunch doesn’t matter, darling,” she lies. “Just—keep me updated? Please?”

_“WE PROMISE.”_

Another voice cuts in—Romanov. _“Could you guys be a tad stealthier?”_

_“THERE IS NO SCREAMING. THAT COUNTS AS STEALTHY.”_

_“There will be if you insist on being an eight-feet-tall alien right in the middle of the San Francisco Helicopter Tour parking lot. Even at 3am.”_

_“SEVEN FEET SIX,”_ Venom corrects.

Anne blinks, distracted. “How do you know that? Did Eddie measure you?”

_“DAN DID.”_

“Really? When? How?” She pauses. “Why?”

Venom snarls, presumably at Romanov, then says, _“WE HAVE TO GO_. _WE LOVE YOU._ _SAY HI TO DAN.”_

The call cuts off. Anne stares at the group chat for a solid three minutes, but it doesn’t yield any status updates. She exhales through her nose, then puts her headphones back on and restarts _Alien, _though she knows she won’t be able to focus on it. Besides, it doesn’t really work on her anymore, that one.

*

The helicopter ride isn’t ideal.

The noise is _just _on this side of bearable for Venom, but it trembles and burrows deep inside Eddie, who does his best to act as a buffer, zipping up his jacket, wrapping his arms tight around himself, mumbling reassurance—only he’s not that reassured himself, keeping his eyes closed not to see just how _high up _they are. He used to manage well enough on a plane, but he’d never tried helicopters before and yeah, no, they’re bad. It’s bad.

Two state lines later, Eddie stumbles out into the desert and dry heaves over the sand for a few minutes while Romanov waits patiently for him to get his shit together. Straightening up at last, he wipes sweat from his brow and starts planning the paper he’ll write in his head. It’s always a good distraction, and if he can really take down a third massive pharmaceutical company in fewer than two years, he will have serious professional currency everywhere he goes. Might even head back to New York for a spin. Not that he’d want to live there anymore; his roots are deep in San Francisco now.

_OKAY? _Venom asks when they’ve stopped trembling.

“Yeah. You?”

_OF COURSE: WE ARE TOGETHER._

Eddie gives a faint smile. Venom’s pulsing warmly inside him, oozing reassurance, and Eddie knows it can feel how stressed out he still is. The truth is—it’s not just his fear of heights. He’s worried about Anne. He shouldn’t have texted her, probably. But then what _else _could he do?

All he wanted was to be upfront with her, the way he regrettably wasn’t last time around, but he just made her anxious. He’s not sure how to explain that nothing really _can _hurt them, supersoldiers aside. This isn’t a classic superhero’s girlfriend situation by any means. Not that he’s a superhero, and not that Anne’s his girlfriend, but the _point _is—knowing he’s out at night more or less fighting crime should barely register to her. He’s not sure how to drive the point home. Maybe he should let her see him eat someone. Or maybe he absolutely, definitely shouldn’t do that, ever.

_CAN HUMANS CHANGE THEIR FACE? _Venom asks, pulling him out of his thoughts.

Eddie frowns. “What?”

_CAN HUMANS CHANGE THEIR FACE._

“No, love, they… We... Unless—do you mean, like, plastic surgery?”

_I MEAN WHATEVER ROMANOV JUST DID._

Eddie turns around and nearly has a heart attack. “What the _fuck?”_

“What,” says the middle-aged woman in an Alchemax uniform who somehow replaced Romanov. “Did you think Alchemax employed me under my real identity? I’m a very public face, now.”

“Is that—do you have a _mask on?”_ She just walks away, and Eddie hurries after her through the desert. “Can you tell me more? Who developed it? Who’s using it? What kind of technology—how many are there in circulation?”

“It’s all in the files I dropped two years ago,” Romanov answers. “Maybe that’ll finally motivate you to read them.”

Eddie blinks, then snorts. “Didn’t realize you’d taken that one personally.”

“You’re about to make it up to me.” She stops and turns towards him. “Slime time. Come on.”

Venom surges out all over Eddie again. It’s second nature by now to surrender to the force pervading his entire body, braiding itself through his muscle fibers. Venom’s teeth pierce through the roof of Eddie’s mouth, its tongue fuses with Eddie’s tongue. It cracks their jaw, snaps it a few times; its eyes are stretching so far back around their skull that Eddie can see over their own shoulder without looking. Every time, it takes him a second to adjust. Venom moves, and Eddie’s body moves along inside, which never fails to turn him on—to be puppeteered like that.

God, it’s potent this time around. The helicopter ride took his mind off it for a while, but now he remembers he’s still pent-up from the interruption earlier, and Venom’s subvocal growl rumbles through the whole of him. Alien innards tighten around his cock. There’s no part of him he can hide or protect right now; all of him’s invaded, suspended in the very body of his better half.

Could Venom—could they—_do it_—while Eddie’s _inside? _

Fuck, the thought would make him weak at the knees if he still had control over them. Romanov, unaware of any impending indecency, nods. “That’ll do.”

She clicks something that looks like a car key, and a giant concrete trap door opens up in the ground, sand flowing away from it.

_Jeeze, _Eddie says, momentarily distracted from his arousal. _These guys have an actual underground lair. _He looks up with Venom’s eyes at the night sky, but he’s never been good with stars and the colors are all fucked. _Think you can remember exactly where we are, love? _

“SURE.” It moves a little, shifting in the sand, and once again, Eddie’s entire body is forced to move along. Renewed heat pulses through him. He can feel nothing but slick friction on every square inch of his skin. He’s completely locked inside Venom. He can’t even move.

_Venom, don’t—_

Venom _contracts _around him, like a swallowing throat, moving up and down and squeezing in a way that makes Eddie see stars, both from high pressure and sudden oversensitivity.

_You’re going to kill me, _he manages.

His mouth stretches along with Venom’s grin. “CHANCES ARE YOU WILL LIKE IT.” It happens again, the tightening, and Eddie lets out a muffled, desperate noise only Venom can hear.

_If I come, you’ll—you’ll fall apart. Like you always do. We can’t fall apart now. _He doesn’t sound very convincing to himself.

Venom’s entire body feels once more like it’s trying to squeeze something out of Eddie. “GOOD POINT. I WILL KEEP YOU ON THE BRINK.”

“Okay, don’t do that,” Romanov says. “Your creepy little one-sided conversations. Don’t have them in front of people.”

Venom stick out its tongue at her, which—probably doesn’t translate as playful, what with the twisting and dripping drool, but maybe that’s not what it was going for anyway. Eddie tries to gather his wits and watches as the massive trap door finishes opening in the ground. But it’s hard, what with everything around him rubbing and pressing, a sheer mass of muscle with the dexterity of pianist fingers.

They go down a long flight of stairs until they reach an armored steel gate. Romanov’s earpiece crackles to life; Eddie can hear the panicked words very clearly. _“What in the name of fuck is that?”_

“You said find something intimidating,” Romanov answers without blinking. “So I did.”

_“Oh, that’s beautiful.” _That’s another voice, a woman. There’s always at least one mad scientist in those corporations. Which is probably why they keep blowing up, Eddie thinks. _“What is that? Is it sentient? Will it obey orders?”_

“It’s an alien. Its name is Venom. And sure it will, especially if you order it to eat someone.”

_“Eat someone!” _The woman sounds positively thrilled. _“You mean it feeds on carbon-based life? What are the odds of that?”_

_“Doctor, we’re trying to make the prisoner talk,” _the man protests.

_“Oh, yes, sure. But he’s been with us for weeks and hasn’t said a word. If he still doesn’t after that, we might as well let this fascinating creature have its way. Where did you find it, Agent Rushman?”_

“Personal contacts,” Romanov answers blankly.

The armored door opens. _“Well, come in, come in. And be aware we’re fully ready to shoot both of you if it starts eating technicians.”_

*

“Honey?”

Dan shuffles into the darkened room; Anne puts away her laptop—the movie really wasn’t holding her attention anyway—and smiles wanly. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was just thirsty.” He’s got a glass of milk in his hand. “What’s wrong?”

Anne shows him the group chat. Dan frowns, then says, “Should we be worried?”

“Venom says no. I guess I can’t help _but_ worry.”

Dan puts his free arm around her. Then he says, “That’s a shame about lunch.”

“God, I _know,” _Anne exclaims. “It’s stupid, but I’ve been so_ nervous_ about it, and now…”

What if Eddie doesn’t want to come? What if he does—but doesn’t want to travel _with them? _They’re going there for two weeks. They’ll stay with Dan’s _parents_. Is he all right with that? Would he rather just show up at the ceremony, stand in the back, pretend he barely knows them? Oh God, Anne’s mother will _see _him. She will ask him _questions. _If he answers those questions the way he did with Stacy—

“I know what you mean,” Dan says. “I’m really hoping we can make the trip together, too. It won’t be just you I’m introducing, after all.”

She opens her mouth, then pauses, and changes course. “Wait. Are you going to—tell them? About—the three of us?”

Dan looks at her. “I mean, not if either of you minds.”

“But _you_ wouldn’t,” Anne says, incredulous. “Mind.”

“Well, we’re all very open in my family,” Dan eludes. “And I don’t really see the point in keeping it a secret.” He shifts closer to her on the couch and presses a kiss into her hair. “You know, I really can’t wait for them to meet you.”

She manages to smile. “Am I a catch? Are you going to parade me around?”

“Every chance I get,” Dan answers with blinding sincerity. “I don’t think anyone expected me to ever actually get married.”

There was a time when Anne would have protested: who _wouldn’t _want to marry Dr. Daniel Lewis, eligible bachelor, MD? But now, well. Now she gets how he might frighten people away. How he _has_, despite his best efforts, up until she—and Eddie—turned up.

It hits her suddenly that this is why Dan was so worried about the trip to Virginia. So wary of requesting his family be present at his own wedding. In a way, he’s still scared of becoming too much to handle. He’s still trying as hard as he can to be perfect.

Anne’s no stranger to that particular strain.

“I’m certainly going to parade _you_ in front of my mother,” she says.

Dan smiles, of course. But then he frowns and says, “I thought she wasn’t too happy with you getting married so soon after Eddie.”

“Oh, she isn’t. _That’s_ why.” Anne smiles and kisses him. “You know I love a bad boy.”

Dan laughs against her mouth. “I’m a bit too clean-cut to fit the bill, don’t you think?”

Anne gets a flash of silver and red—Dan pushing metal into Eddie’s side, smiling, saying _this might hurt a bit. _She shivers with the intensity of it. Dan is indeed a very clean-cut person. Those do make the best surgeons.

“I mean, at least Eddie had tattoos,” Dan goes on reasoning.

“You’ve got other things going on for yourself, hon.” She kisses him longer this time.

*

Romanov’s persona gets into the huge freight elevator along with Venom, an escort of fifteen people, and the mad scientist lady. The labs span _seven_ underground levels, which has Eddie reeling a little. This shouldn’t surprise him—the Life Foundation was building _space rockets, _for fuck’s sake—but seriously, how come scientists with _this _much money keep blowing it all on stupid shit like that instead of actually improving real people’s lives?

Maybe they’re giving massive bonuses to their employees, which would explain why those are now forming a trembling guard around Venom instead of running away screaming. Some of them have machine guns, which Venom probably finds cute. It’s still squeezing and rubbing Eddie on and off, keeping him on edge as promised, never risking completion but _not _letting him cool down either. Eddie is completely helpless. He protests feebly from time to time, but it only encourages Venom. He could try getting himself off, and to hell with what happens next, but Venom is also fully inside him when they’re like this—permeating Eddie’s every cell—so it’s got total control over whether or not Eddie may come. Right now the answer is very clearly _not. _

They’re on a mission, after all. Eddie said so himself. Eddie’s also going to fucking die. It’s not the first time that thought crosses his mind in relation to his sex life, which probably says something about him, though he can’t figure out _what _exactly. Venom contracts, rubs, squeezes again, keeping a tight leash on Eddie’s orgasm. It’s fucking torture.

The elevator goes down and down and down. Eddie is still so very _aware _of being inside Venom. Never before have they stood inside an elevator, just breathing. He can feel it pulse quietly all around him like a giant inside-out heart. And he can feel living tissue tighten and ooze around his whole body. Romanov aside, nobody in this elevator knows he’s even _here. _Nobody suspects what’s being done to him _right now._

_V, for the love of God, _he pleads. _V, I’m going to lose my mind—_

“RELAX,” Venom snarls, which doesn’t make anyone relax in the slightest—rather the opposite.

“It _speaks_,” the lead scientist says, clasping her hands. “Wonderful.”

Venom narrows its eyes at her, but says nothing. She adjusts her glasses and says, “Do you understand the job you have to do?”

“SCARE HIM ENOUGH THAT HE WILL TALK,” Venom recites.

“Yes, yes,” the doctor says. “But listen—if he doesn’t, then you may do what you want with him. I want to be very clear about that.”

Eddie forces his brain back into gear despite it being soaked in arousal. This woman very clearly _wants _Venom to eat their prisoner. Romanov brought them here just in time. Eddie can see her hands tightening on her gun, briefly.

The elevator opens on a miserable concrete corridor. “Stay here, all of you,” says the doctor. “Venom, with me.”

Eddie’s got to admit she’s got, if nothing else, what the kids call moxie.

Leaving Romanov behind with the relieved guards, Venom follows the doctor down the hallway. It relents on its torture of Eddie now that action’s afoot; Eddie is both deeply grateful and incredibly frustrated.

A door opens onto a narrow cell, completely bare. The first thing Eddie notices are the cameras, one at every angle of the ceiling; then he zeroes on the prisoner bound to a plain old folding chair.

It’s a white guy, looking even whiter in the stark neon light, with purple bruises and blood crusting his dirty blond hair. He’s been stripped naked. But he looks up at the doctor without fear—even when Venom slides into the room after her and the door closes behind them.

Eddie can’t help feeling a little thrill. Sure, it’s not Captain America, but still, that’s the fourth Avenger they’re meeting in less than two months.

“This is our new employee. Venom, meet Clint Barton,” the doctor says while Venom creeps behind the folding chair. “What do you think?”

“I think someone in HR fucked up big time,” Barton says, then quickly raises his chin when Venom’s huge clawed hand closes around his neck.

“Its name is Venom,” the doctor says, “and Venom feeds on inconvenient people. As it happens, I am very, very interested in watching him feed. And you are very, very inconvenient.”

“See, now you’re hurting my feelings_,” _Barton says, voice steady even as Venom slowly licks his cheek. Eddie kind of wishes it wouldn’t do that, but they’ve got to sell the monster thing. At least Barton’s obviously been warned somehow. Did Romanov mention how? All Eddie remembers is that she needed him to go rescue someone who’d been compromised by her data dump.

When Eddie had objected that said data dump had taken place two whole years ago, she’d explained that Barton had been managing to hide all mentions of himself while sifting through the data for his bosses. It seems nobody felt up to reading Romanov’s files, good guys and bad guys alike. That’ll teach her to release several terabytes of secrets in one go.

But now Barton’s luck has run out, clearly. He’s being completely cool, but the bruises under his eyes and over his body tell another story. The doctor said he’d been down there for _weeks. _Eddie wishes he weren’t naked. By stripping Barton’s clothes away, Alchemax made it so anyone who walked into the cell became a participant in his humiliation, willingly or not.

They keep up the dance for a little while longer. The doctor’s not exactly pushing hard. She really, really wants Venom to eat Barton, and presumably study his remains afterwards. Eddie commits her nametag to memory for further reference; if she doesn’t fall when he brings down Alchemax, whoever hires her will be next on his list.

Eventually she says, “Oh well. Goodbye, Clint Barton,” and leaves the room.

Barton meets Venom’s eyes.

_Can you destroy the cameras before I come out, love? _Eddie asks.

Venom lashes out in tendrils at all four corners of the room at the same time, crushing the surveillance tech. Barton startles; he obviously hadn’t expected that move. Then Venom retreats inside of Eddie, who averts his eyes as soon as he’s able to move his head.

“Ah, jeeze, sorry,” he says. “Man. Wish I’d—wish I’d brought you a change of clothes.”

Barton just stares.

“Okay, so—I’m guessing we don’t have much time,” Eddie asks, walking around him to untie his hands. “You’ve worked here, you know the place better than me. When will they realize we fucked up the cameras?”

“Who or what the fuck—” Barton twists around to look at him, incredulous. “Are you _helping me?”_

Eddie blinks at him. “Did Romanov not explain?”

“Oh, God.” Barton slumps all at once in relief. “Oh, God, Nat sent you.”

“Wait, you didn’t _know?”_

“Dude, I’ve been deep undercover for nearly three years.” Barton’s cool façade has completely vanished; now he just sounds how he looks like—battered and exhausted. “And down this shithole for I don’t even know how long. How exactly was she supposed to warn me?”

“I don’t know, by—passing on a message to a guard, or something. She works here.”

“She _works here?”_

Eddie finishes untying his wrists. “So, wait—you thought we were actually gonna eat you? You thought we were gonna eat you and _that was your reaction?”_

Barton winces in relief, moving his shoulders. “You gotta know how to front in this job. Honestly, that’s like, 75% of it. If you’ve got resting bitch face, you’re cut out for most of intelligence work.” He looks at Eddie like he doesn’t dare to hope. “So… this is really a rescue?”

“Slash interview, yeah,” Eddie says, getting to work on his ankles. “Name’s Eddie Brock. I’m a reporter.”

Venom snickers. _GOT YOUR PRIORITIES STRAIGHT, EDDIE._

“Fuck, man, if you can get me out of here, I’ll give you all the interviews you want,” Barton says wanly as the rope comes loose. “Hell, I’ll tell you what color underpants Captain America likes to wear.”

“I can mention that next time I meet him.”

“You’ve met Cap?” Barton sits up slowly, mindful of his ribs. “Wait, are you on the team now?”

“Uh, no,” Eddie says, baffled. “I mean, uh, thanks. Means—means a lot. But we’ve got—uh, different styles.”

_WE COULD BE HEROES IF WE WANTED._

“We’re our own thing, love.”

Barton gives him an uncertain look. “Did you just call me _love?”_

“Not talking to you.” Eddie pulls his sweatshirt over his head. “Here, put this on.”

Barton does, then blinks when Eddie takes off his sneakers, then his jeans. “What are _you _going to wear?”

“Same thing I was wearing when I walked in,” Eddie says as Venom wraps around him.

Barton takes three whole steps back. Now that he’s not being stoic in the face of death, he actually looks pretty freaked out. “Okay, whoa, just—give me the rundown. You an alien or something?”

“WE ARE VENOM.”

“Oh, good, split personalities,” Barton says. “I was just thinking all we needed was another Hulk. Only somehow _scarier_.”

“WE ARE NOT SPLIT. WE ARE ONE,” Venom says—clearly it’s getting off on creeping out Barton, because it’s got the worst sense of humor. “AND SOON YOU WILL BE ONE WITH US, TOO.”

Barton takes a fourth step back. _“What?”_

Eddie shakes his head in the way that means Venom retracts from over half his face. “Don’t worry, V just means—”

Barton stares at him with huge horrified eyes. “Are you—are you _inside—_are you _two people?”_

“Yeah! That’s why Romanov sent us. It’s the perfect plan. We carry you out. The crazy scientist lady thinks we ate you. No one actually gets hurt.”

“Carry me out _how?”_

“Hide you under the—I guess like a piggyback ride? While enveloped in alien biomass—you know, It’s temporary. Think Luke inside a tauntaun.” Eddie winces. “With Han shoved in there with him, I guess.”

Barton looks defeated. “Honestly, I’d rather you just eat me.”

“No you wouldn’t,” Eddie says, at the same time as Venom says, “WELL, IF WE HAVE YOUR CONSENT.”

Which is when the door slams open on the bespectacled doctor, along with the dozen henchmen. They’re looking like they’re about to shit their collective pants. She’s looking mildly upset.

“Did I say you could mess with my cameras?” she scolds. “Science requires observation, you know.”

“WE ARE NOT HERE TO BE STUDIED,” Venom says. Then it grins. “INVITE US AGAIN AND WE MAY LET YOU WATCH.”

Eddie would bury his face in his hands if he were able to move.

“I’ve got a better idea,” the doctor says, and one of the henchmen fires an electric gun at Venom.

“TICKLES,” Venom says. Then it eats the guy’s head.

Later Eddie will feel faintly horrified—and muse that Venom almost certainly did dampen some of his empathy upon bonding—but right now he’s biting into live flesh and fleetingly experiencing the all-powerful rush of being an apex predator. Venom sees right through his brain; Venom knows exactly Eddie is secretly 100% onboard with all the murder.

All the other guys scream and run, but not the doctor, though she got splattered with the arterial spray. She just watches the man fall, then looks up at Venom. “Well, I guess it was worth a try.”

“Jesus _fuck_,” Barton squeaks.

The doctor narrows her eyes at him. “Where did these clothes come from?”

Which is when Romanov fires an electric gun at _her_. Her already frizzy hair sparkles all around her head; she tries to speak, tries to move, but fails at both. They all watch her drop. Romanov lowers her weapon, chest heaving. Barton is still frozen to the spot.

Venom licks its chops and snorts. “SO MUCH FOR STEALTH.”

“Look, we _tried,” _Romanov says exasperatedly, deactivating her face mask.

_“Nat,”_ Barton breathes, stumbling forward. He falls into a hug with her, slaps her back, lets go quick enough—they’re still in hostile territory. He’s shaking. “Little—little warning next time?”

“I’ll do my best,” she says, giving him a gun. “Everyone ready to leave?”

Eddie feels Venom swallow the last of the guy, and winces; already the rush of _blood blood blood _has deserted his brain. There’s that faint horror he was talking about. He communicates, _Try not to eat more of these guys on the way out, love._

“WHY NOT? THEY ARE BAD PEOPLE.”

_No, they work for bad people, that’s—there’s a slight difference. Just scare them. Okay? For me. Please._

Barton makes an obvious and violent effort to sound casual. “So, it’s a guy inside an alien.”

“Most of the time, it’s the other way around,” Romanov answers like this somehow makes it better.

“And you know them _how?”_

“I’ll tell you later. Brock, are we ready?”

“LEAD THE WAY,” Venom grins.

And then it goes right back to torturing Eddie as they walk into the freight elevator.

_Please, please, _Eddie is chanting desperately by the time they reach ground level. _Please, Venom, for God’s sake—_

But Venom knows very well Eddie’s not actually pleading for it to stop. They’re both getting too worked up—the adrenaline of the kill still coursing through both their systems—and Eddie’s been waiting for his orgasm for hours now. He’s not going to last much longer. The fact that he absolutely cannot move doesn’t stop him from _trying _to struggle.

_Please—_

“OH, GO AHEAD,” Venom growls as the doors open onto the exit hallway.

Romanov frowns at him. “What? Aren’t you coming—”

“WE WILL CATCH UP,” it says, and its voice wobbles and distorts as Eddie starts to come and its biomass begins to unravel.

Barton’s the one to drag Romanov out, though he probably doesn’t even know what’s happening. Good instincts, really. Eddie comes and comes and _comes, _and it’s so good, he completely forgets where he is, what he’s doing, what’s happening. There’s only the pleasure and Venom melting all over him.

When he comes round, he’s actually still there, crumpled against the elevator wall, staring up at the ceiling. Venom’s splattered all over him, twitching a little in drunken joy.

“So there’s the mile-high club,” Eddie rasps. “What about the… the underground lair club.”

Regretfully, he shakes off the afterglow sooner than he’d like and drags himself to his feet. Now that he’s _finally _come, his mind is much clearer. He gets out his phone—from his underwear; it’s not like he’s wearing anything else right now—and texts Anne. _Looks like we’ll make lunch tomorrow after all. _He’s not even sure why, but he knows it’s important. This lunch is important. Or maybe lunch in general. He feels too fuzzy to care right now.

Getting out of the base isn’t hard, even for a half-naked guy with all the speed and grace of a decaying zombie—there isn’t a soul in the corridors; it seems nobody’s eager to avenge the lone guard they ate. Or maybe the other guards locked themselves in a safe room thinking Venom was coming for them all. Either way, they just kinda walk out. Barton and Romanov are waiting outside, nervously; they visibly relax when they see Eddie stumble into the night.

“You all right, man?” Barton asks. “What happened back there?”

“Technical incident,” Eddie says. “Alien stuff. No worries. All good now.”

“Why are you wearing boxers?” Romanov asks.

“’Cause I wasn’t gonna give them to Barton. No offense, man.”

“None _taken,”_ Barton says with feeling.

Venom, who’d been happily curled up inside Eddie so far, stirs a little when it feels goosebumps on Eddie’s skin. The desert does get chilly at night. It stretches lazily over Eddie and manages something resembling a black hoodie and dark jeans.

“Aw, thanks, love,” Eddie says, giving himself a once-over. “Hey, I look badass.”

“Look, uh, I think—thanks?” Barton interrupts, still looking pretty disturbed. “Thank you. You know. For getting me out.”

“Yes,” Romanov puts in. “Thanks.”

“No problem. Now you both owe me one.”

Barton blinks. “Sure, I guess, but—let me tell you right away, I don’t, uh, do murder. I know Stark keeps saying I’m an assassin, but I’m actually—”

“I’ve got murder covered,” Eddie says, which maybe wasn’t the best thing that could have come out of his mouth, but whatever. “I guess I just like collecting favors from Avengers.”

“He wants us to keep Steve from being righteous at him,” Romanov says.

“Hey,” Eddie protests.

“I’ll explain later,” Romanov adds in answer to Barton’s confused look.

“Later sounds good.” Barton blinks. “God, I’m seeing spots.”

The sun’s rising, which might explain that. Eddie shoves his hands in the pocket of his newly made hoodie, and feels the pocket squeeze back.

“Can you bring me back to San Francisco now?” he asks. “We’ve got a lunch date.”

*

_ON OUR WAY BACK, _Venom texts. _ASSUMING WE SURVIVE THE HELICOPTER RIDE._

Eddie texts ten seconds later: _V means we both hate helicopters. But it’s not like we’re getting chased or anything. Mission accomplished, etc._

Anne sighs in relief. Dan, who’d started dozing on the couch with his arm around her, straightens up and squints at the screen; then he smiles. “I knew they’d be fine.”

“I guess I knew that too.” Anne looks at him. “So, lunch is back on.”

“That it is. Are we still planning on buying an RV?” Dan inquires.

It’s purely informative; if she says yes he will very clearly set out to do just that.

Anne smiles and shakes her head. “Let’s see what Eddie thinks.”

“Hon,” Dan says, “I have a feeling he will be just fine with it.” Then he gets up and offers his hand. “Want to try and grab a couple hours of sleep before lunch?”

Anne lets him pull her to her feet. “I’m so glad we’re getting married.”

Dan smiles. “I’m so glad you keep saying that.”

She does manage to sleep for a solid four hours, snuggled against Dan’s chest. When she wakes up, she gets into the shower and emerges actually feeling human. The sight of Dan, sipping his coffee in bed and reading the news on his tablet, is a big help. She thinks of waking up to this sight every morning for the rest of her life and something inside her goes loose with relief, the physical equivalent to _oh, thank god, finally. _

“There’s coffee in the pot,” he says, still reading.

Someone knocks on the door. Anne frowns, walks over to take a peek.

“It’s me,” Eddie’s voice sounds from the other side. “I brought croissants!”

When he opens the door, he’s smiling, waving a paper bag at her. He looks like he had a long night but enjoyed himself. “I got a crazy story for ya. I know we were on for lunch, but we got back so early after all, I figured I might as well, you know.”

“Yes, I know,” she says quietly. Then she leans forward to kiss him, and feels the tickle in the left corner of her lips that’s Venom saying hi. When she pulls back, she asks, “Eddie, how would you feel about going to Virginia for the wedding?”

“What? Was there another option? Dan’s family lives there.” He blinks at her, worried. “We’re doing some kind of road trip, right? That’s what I assumed anyway...”

It doesn’t matter what Anne’s mother says. She has _amazing_ taste in men.

**Author's Note:**

> Next (and presumably last) fic in the series will be THE. WEDDING. finally. And also a road trip, of course. Plus more cameos. So many cameos. And lots and lots of Dan, because let's be honest, he's the real hero here.  
Thank you so much for reading! Do tell me your thoughts! :D

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] shooting up junk](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21666166) by [miri_tiazan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/miri_tiazan/pseuds/miri_tiazan)


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